


Origins

by thosefarplaces



Series: Preludes [1]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:53:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thosefarplaces/pseuds/thosefarplaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Natural Selection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Origins

**"a pretty nice life"**

The first time you have to use your gun, they say you did good. It was him or you, after all. It was him or you. They give you time off that you don’t want, because it just means time alone in the apartment with the same thoughts playing out in your head. They tell you that you’re _brave_.

You nod because it seems like the correct thing to do. It’s like they can’t even see you shaking.

  


**"like nothing’s wrong"**

You cry over the news together once you’re home. In private. It does help, having someone to hold onto, to share part of the weight, even if he can’t really understand. But the Merlot you find after he’s asleep helps even more.

You buy a few new ones at the grocery store and tell yourself it’s just so he won’t notice the old bottle missing. And they’re a bargain, anyways. You’d saved the coupons.

  


**"all of us"**

You spend your nights in different ways that are all somehow the same. In libraries, or on rooftops, in jam-packed clubs. Stoned on someone else’s couch, frowning over a lab bench, laughing in a classroom. But no matter the shapes around you, you’re reaching out with restless hands, wanting to know them all. Feel them all. Waiting for someone to reach back.

  


**"not the memory"**

The tapes are by far the oldest things in your apartment, and sometimes you think about removing them. Part of you _wants_ to. But mistakes are to be learned from. Enemies to be faced.

So you watch them, and you look powerlessness in the eye. You dare it to show itself. You are prepared.

  


**"they made a mistake"**

The payphone is cold against your cheek as you wait, hoping you got the date right. Three rings. Four. Then Ma picks up.

You make it past hello, and for a second you wonder if she’ll recognize your voice now. But before you can get to ‘happy birthday,’ she calls you by _that_ name.

You don’t shout at her. You’re past that, now. But you hang up, because there’s nothing else to say.

  


**"wonderfully and fearfully"**

It’s been days since they locked the door. A long time ago it would have scared you, being down here this long, but you’ve come to like the quiet and the coolness of it. You say your own prayers. You pick at the scabs, and sing lullabies, and the echo of your voice makes you giggle. There are worse places to sleep. After all, they are always calling you маленький монстр.

Isn’t the darkness where monsters belong?

  


**"the bravest thing"**

You’ve used anger for so long that sometimes you wonder where you’d be without it, but you’ve never needed it quite like _this_ before, the way you need it when you feel them looking at the bulge in your stomach that clothes can’t hide. Only…anger tastes different now. Less bitter. More warm.

You fall asleep with your hands cradling your stomach, whispering the same three words to the daughter you haven’t met yet, over and over and over again.


End file.
